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LENA RIVERS 

By MARIE DORAN 

'I'his popular and successful comedy drama is now issued 
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complete stage directions, is arranged for 5 male and 4 
female characters, runs 2-/^ hours and has 2 simple in- 
terior scenes. 

LOW ROYALTY 

^ Price 35 cents per copy 



Kathleen Mavourneen 

Nczv CopyrigJitcd Version. This well-known Irish favor- 
ite entirely revised and rewritten hy Marie Doran, and 
so simplified in stage settings that it can he readily pro- 
duced hy amateurs and stock companies. Lo:^' Rovalty 
for Professional Performances. 8 male and 3 female 
characters. Runs 2 hours ;, i interior and i exterior 
scene. 

Price 25 cents per copy 



Fitzgerald Publishing Corporation 

Successor to 
DICK & FrrZGERALD 

18 Vesey Street, New York 



A BAD BEGINNING 

A COMEDY IN ONE ACT 



BY 
ERNEST GRANT WHITE 

Author of**The Scribe,'* '*That Letter,'' etc. 



Copyright, 1920, by 
Fitzgerald Publishing Corporation 



^ 



Fitzgerald Publishing Corporation 
Successor to 
Dick & Fitzgerald 
18 Vesey Street New York 



Note. — The Moving Picture and Professional Acting 
Rights of this play are expressly reserved by the pub- 
lishers, to whom theatrical managers who wish to pro- 
duce it should apply. Free for amateurs. ^ n 




A BAD BEGINNING 



CHARACTERS 



Stephen Purceval A ranchman from Nevada 

Anne Pennington A Neiv York society girl 

Janet Cowdrey Also in New York society 

Frank Bell An engineer and man-about-ioivn 

Jack Howard. A victim of tJie tender passion 

Bell-boy A necessary evil 

Time.— Spring, 1919. 

Locality. — Purceval's suite, hotel McLaren, New York 
City, N. Y. 

Time of Representation. — About one hour. 

SYNOPSIS 

Stephen Purceval, a Nevada ranchman (formerly a 
New Yorker), comes to the metropolis expecting to marry 
Janet Cowdrey, a society girl. She has been flirting 
with him but, however, '* turns him down cold.'' Dis- 
gusted, he proposes to return to the West immediately, 
but at this time Anne Pennington, another society girl, 
enters his suite at the hotel. Purceval assumes that she 
is a thief and engages her in conversation while deciding 
what disposition to make of her. He becomes interested 
and loses his heart to her *'on the rebound," as it were. 
To his proposal of marriage she replies evasively, though 
deeply impressed, and leaves, giving him some hope, 
however. ^ 

JAN 21 m^ ^, TMP92-00752 7 



A Bad Beginning 3 

Jack Howard, a boy friend and admirer of Anne, 
now enters and complicates the situation by attempting 
to force an explanation from Purceval as to Anne's 
presence in his rooms. He is only partially successful 
but does succeed in establishing Anne's identity and 
Purceval 's honorable intentions. 

Later, Anne returns in company with Frank Bell, 
an old friend of Purceval and a business associate of 
her father. Bell is engaged to Janet and she follows 
Anne and him to the hotel. A stormy interview fol- 
lows, during which Janet's discomfiture is made com- 
plete. Jack contributing in no small degree to this end. 
Anne accepts Purceval and again— ''A bad beginning 
makes a good ending. ' ' 



COSTUMES AND CHARACTERISTICS 

Purceval, Age 40, evening dress and bath robe. 
Anne, Age 24, street costume, hat, gloves, etc. 
Janet, Age 25, evening costume, hat, gloves, etc. 
Bell, Age 40, evening dress throughout, with hat and 
overcoat. 
Jack, Age 19, street dress with hat. 
Bell-boy, Age 17, uniform with visorless cap. 

INCIDENTAL PROPERTIES 

Gladstone bag, small tray, wash cloth, towel, military 
brushes, watch and fob, fountain pen, note for Pur- 
ceval ; note and hand-bag for Anne ; check book, deeds, 
time-tables, etc. 

STAGE DIRECTIONS ^ 

As seen by a performer on the stage facing the audi- 
ence, r. means right hand ; l., left hand ; c, center ; d. c, 
door in center of rear flat ; d. l., door at left, up means 
toward back of stage ; down, toward footlights. 



4 A Bad Beginning 

FOREWORD 

The author in writing this play had in mind the needs 
and requirements of the amateur stage and has tried 
to meet both. He has produced it with an amateur com- 
pany several times and knows from experience that the 
audiences approve of it. The one setting required can 
be readily and inexpensively obtained and the same is 
true of costumes and properties. 

Full directions will be found for everything required. 

The scope of action is well within the limits of the 
average intelligent,* serious, amateur company and the 
author gives his Godspeed to those who may wish to use 
the play, hoping that they and their audiences will 
enjoy it. 

E. G. W. 

New York, September 1, 1919. 



A BAD BEGINNING 



SCENE. — Sitting-room of suite. Practical doors at c. 
and L. Dresser against wall r. Costumer near 
dresser; table down l. Arm and other chairs dis- 
posed about stage. Waste-basket up l. Carpet on 
stage. Telephone at l. of door c. {To be operated 
from prompter's position.) Lights full up during 
whole play. DISCOVERED at rise, Stephen 
seated in armchair down l. reading letter; his coat 
is off. 

Stephen (thinking — a pause). Funny she should 
want to come here. {Reading) *' Dear Steve: Your 
letter was a distinct surprise. Imagine the shock to hear 
you were in New York, a pleasant one of course. You 
say you want to come up to see me. You know I should 
be perfectly delighted to have you come, but there is 
something that prevents it; I will explain when I see 
you. I have decided to come to you instead, for I must 
see you at once. Shall be at your hotel at eight o'clock. 
In haste, Janet." {Musing) Now why the devil can't 
I go to her home? {Thinking) Perhaps she's afraid I'd 
disgrace her with my rough ways; poor kid, she will be 
surprised to know that I have stacked up against the 
society game before, in the first person singular. I sup- 
pose there is a sight of difference between a swallow-tail 
and chaps to some people, but after an intimate acquaint- 
ance with both outfits, give me the chaps. {Telephone 
rings) Maybe that's Janet now. {Grabs coat and puts 
it on, smoothing hair and tidying up. Bell rings again) 
I'll bet that's her, she's kind of impatient. {Goes to 
'phone) Hello — yes, this is him, send her right up — 
what? — it isn't a her — who? — oh, Mr. Frank Bell — send 

5 



6 A Bad Beginning 

him along. (Hangs up disappointedly) Frank Bell; 
it's years since I've seen him; we used to be great 
buddies. I shall be glad to see him but I wish he had 
selected a more propitious time to call. {Looks at watch, 
shakes head) Seven-forty — in twenty minutes she will 
be here; I must shoot Frank out before she arrives. 
{Knock at d. c.) Come in. 

ENTER Bell d. c. 

Bell {hand extended), Steve! 

Steve {grasping Bell's hand). Frank, well, well, 
this is a surprise. {Looking Bell over) Say, Buck, 
you don't look a day older than when we used to chum 
at the Lotus Club. 

Bell. Now, Steve, that's nice of you, even though I 
know it isn't true. Look at these. {Points to gray hair 
at temples) 

Steve. I Ve got you beaten there, old man. 

Bell. So you have; but you know you were much 
more pious than I in the old days ; no doubt that accounts 
for it. 

^T^M^ {laughs) . Pious! {Takes ^^ia^*^ hat, motions 
to seat) We certainly were a pious pair, Frank; we 
sought much spiritual refreshment, didn't we? {Hangs 
Bell's hat on costumer) 

Bell. Spirituous, you mean; and then you broke 
away from it all and cleared out ; goodness knows where 
you went. 

Steve {sitting at table). Oh, I was sick of it all, 
Frank ; sick of the sham and show and dissipation ; there 
was nothing real about it aside from you, old pal. 

Bell. And yet you cleared out and left me. 

Steve. But not before I had asked you to go too; 
you hadn 't gotten enough, however. 

Bell. No, not then. 

Steve. Then you did get it later? 

Bell. Plenteously, Steve, plenteously. I sunk very 
nearly all I had before I did though. 



A Bad Beginning 7 

Steve. And then? 

Bell. I tried to locate yon. You had written me 
several times, but I was too busy to answer and when I 
got my fill, I couldn't find you; where did you go? 

Steve. I went West. I tried several occupations 
only to find that I was unfitted for any. Finally I went 
to a sanitorium and told the doctors to tinker me into 
as good shape as the material would permit. It was a 
tough job for I had left mighty little to work on, but 
eventually they turned me loose in a fairly good physical 
condition, and with some good advice. 

Bell. Did you take it ? 

Steve. Yes, that was the only thing I got gratu- 
itously. I just forgot as far as possible that New York 
and I had ever been acquainted, went to work on a ranch 
and made good. 

Bell. Now I suppose you own the ranch you started 
on? 

Steve. No, not that one, I am superintendent there ; 
but I invested money in several other properties and 
have recovered the patrimony I wasted besides some- 
thing over. 

Bell. Bully for you. Our experiences have been 
much the same. When I couldn't find you, I took up 
the dropped ends of my early attempts at engineering 
and finally located with a mining company in Yucatan. 
1 made good also and with the money I had left, invested 
in the work, finally became an officer of the company. I 
have now given up roughing it and come back to civiliza- 
tion. 

Steve. Fine, Frank, fine ; all except the last ; this life 
here is not civilization, it is centralization. You should 
live among the real people that I know. There a man is 
judged fairly, by what he wears, inside. 

Bell (pointing to Steve's clotlies). But I see you 
are wearing 

Steve. Yes, but I am among the Eomans now. I am 
going to try to get sufficient capital to develop a mining 
property that has come into my possession, and I didn't 




8 A Bad Beginning 

think it the thing to go about the city in my ranch togs ; 
besides, Frank, we are fairly up to date now, even on 
the ranch, and wear collars and neck-ties and all that, 
sometimes. 

Bell. Have you taken up the mining matter with 
an}^ one yet ? 

Steve. Not yet, but I have tried to see a man named 
Pennington, whom my banker recommended. 

Bell. Sherwood Pennington? 

Steve. That's right, do you know him? 

Bell. Well, rather; he is the president of my com- 
pany. Let's get at this thing. (Moves up chair, in- 
terestedly) 

Steve [glancing at watcli). Yes, yes, of course, that 
is — {Gets Bell's hat) Say, Frank, I have a most im- 
portant engagement, which the joy of seeing you had 
nearly driven out of my head. I expect her here — 
{Hands hat to Bell, gets his own) 

Bell {interrupting). Her? Here? So 

Steve {confused). No, no, you don't understand, the 
her is my mine, the Janet, and 

Bell. The Janet? 

Steve. Yes, do you know her, — I mean it ? 

Bell {laughing). Whichever you wish, old man, I 
hope some day to acquire an interest. 

Steve {absently, looking at watch). Yes, yes, so do 
I — but I must run along; I will be late. {Putting on 
hat) Let's go down and get a drink. 

Bell {rising slowly). Thought you had quit drink- 
ing. 

Steve {going). So I have, that is — intoxicants, but 
I 'm a middling heavy smoker, so come on ; we can visit 
a little down stairs. [EXIT d. c. 

Bell. He certainly is changed from the old Steve. 

[EXIT D. c. shakes head 

RE-ENTER Steve d. c. Closes door carefidly. Tip- 
toes to 'phone. 

Steve. Hello — if a lady calls to see Mr. Puree val, 



A Bad Beginning 9 

show her up to my sitting-room and leave the door 
open — that's right. {Mopping face) Whew! (EXIT 
hurriedly d. c. Telephone rings three times — Pause — 
Another ring — Pause) 

ENTER Bell-boy d. c, followed hy Janet and Jack. 

Boy. Mr. Purceval will soon be back. 

[EXIT D. c, leaving door open 

Janet. Close the door, please. 

Boy {returning). Mr. Purceval's orders, leave the 
door open. 

Janet. The idea ! — well, never mind. 

[EXIT Boy d. c. 

Jack. Shall I close it? {Goes toward d. c.) 

Janet. Never mind. {Imitating hoy) Mr. Purce- 
val's orders. {Laughs) 

Jack. But why should he give any such order? 

Janet. You dear boy, you don 't know Stephen ; these 
are his rooms, and I am 

Jack. I see; pretty fine sentiment that. 

Janet {indifferently) . Oh, yes, he has excellent prin- 
ciples and all that, but 

Jack. But what? 

Janet. Oh, I don't know, he is a nice little fellow, a 
trifle rough and unrefined, but he really has a fine char- 
acter. 

Jack. Then why do you wish to be rid of him? 
Surely those attributes should recommend him. 

Janet. Jack, will you ever grow up ? 

Jack. Perhaps with your help ; but about our friend 
Stephen 

Janet. He wants to marry me. 

Jack. That's nothing, so do I and so do several 
others, Frank Bell for one. 

Janet. Jack Howard, if you wish to continue on my 
list of friends, do not class Mr. Bell with yourself. 

Jack. Does Bell suffer by comparison ? 




10 A Bad Beginning 

Janet. Decidedly, with you for a standard. 

Jack. This way out, please. (Leads himself by coat 
lapel) But, seriously, Janet, you know I care a great 
deal for you. 

Janet. And I am very fond of you, as a friend. 
You do not love me 

Jack {interrupting) . Oh, yes I do. 

Janet. Hush, you silly boy, you do nothing of the 
sort. You thought at one time that I inspired the 
Grande Passion in you, but you have outgrown that. 
The day you met Anne Pennington I was cast into the 
discard. 

Jack. Janet! 

Janet. You know I am right, and that is why you 
and I are friends. If you had persisted in making love 
to me you would have been handed your passports long 
ago. 

Jack (in fine fury). Janet, you are utterly heartless; 
if I have made a fool of myself about you it is your own 
fault. 

Janet (resignedly). As you will; we women must 
always bear the blame. 

Jack (hotly). Why did you ask me to come here? 
You intimated that I could help you to rid yourself of 
undesirable attentions and I thought 

Janet. What ? 

Jack. That, that — perhaps you were going to accept 
me in his presence and 

Janet. Stop! Now I know you have not started 
growing up. 

Jack. I — I 

Janet. Listen! I am going to explain the situation 
to you, brutally, since you prefer to have it so. 

Jack. Go on ; but I warn you, I must have the truth. 

Janet. You will get it. Sit down and stop walking 
up and down like a caged lion. (Jack sits suddenly) 
I met Stephen Purceval over a year ago on a ranch in 
Nevada where I was stopping; he was the superintend- 
ent. Having been ordered by my physician to take a 



A Bad Beginning 11 

complete rest, I selected this ranch. There were few to 
engage the interest of a woman accustomed to the usages 
of polite society, but Stephen interested me. He had 
some education, but had never been out in the world, our 
world ; however, his personality amused me. We became 
good friends and saw much of each other; we rode and 
tramped together and finally 

Jack. He made a fool of himself. 

Janet. No, he did not ; he cared for me sincerely and 
told me so. 

Jack. Ah ! You made a fool of him. 

Janet, Wrong again, Jack ; no one will ever make a 
fool of Mr. Purceval. He grew very fond of me, and I 
let him go on. 

Jack. Because his personality amused you ? 

Janet. Perhaps — but, at any rate, I found I could 
not bring myself to dismiss him, — and I came away. 

Jack. Poor devil! 

Janet. He asked me to write to him — to answer his 
letters ; I promised to do so 

Jack. And you did? 

Janet. Occasionally. He wrote often and finally 
proposed. 

Jack. What then? 

Janet. I did not answer directly. I said I would 
answer when I saw him. 

Jack. Thinking he would never have money enough 
for his fare to New York? 

Janet. I hardly know what I thought. Yesterday, 
however, he wrote me from this hotel. I was frantic ; I 
could not let him come to my home; my people would 
never approve of him, and, beside 

Jack {interrupting). You had been playing with 
him and naturally 

Janet. There was another reason. 

Jack. I don't get you. 

Janet. I am engaged to Frank Bell. 

Jack (slowly). You are engaged to Frank Bell? 

Janet. Yes. So don't you see — - 



12 A Bad Beginning 

Jack (furiously). I do see now. I see I am a 
damned fool for having lent myself to this scheme. 

Janet. Jack, you are forgetting yourself. 

Jack. No, I am just beginning to remember myself; 
and I am going to get out of this as soon as I can. 
(Starts toward d. c.) 

Janet. And leave me here alone with this man? 
Listen, Jack, I want you to stay to help me out of this 
mess. 

Jack (going). Not I. You have made the mess and 
you must get out of it. There must be some good women 
somewhere, and I am going to find one. I owe you 
thanks that you did not accept me. 

Janet (sarcastically). Perhaps you have already 
found her — Anne Pennington, for instance? 

Jack. Miss Cowdrey, please do not class Miss Pen- 
nington with yourself; she would certainly not glory 
over my scalp. She is so good that a woman of your 
confessed disposition should not mention her name. 

Janet (alarmed). Jack, do not leave me; my reputa- 
tion would be ruined if it became known that I met this 
man here — alone. 

Jack. Pardon me. Miss Cowdrey, you are thinking 
only of your reputation, not your character. Good-night. 
(Goes to D. c, 7neets Steve, who ENTERS) 

Steve (coming in hurriedly, sees Jack). I beg your 
pardon, I was expecting 

Janet (rushing up). Oh, Mr. Purceval, this is my 
friend, Mr. Howard. 

Steve (extending hand cordially). Pleased to know 
you, Mr. Howard. (Jack takes hand coldly) My dear 
Janet! (Goes eagerly to her; she shakes his hand, 
gently pushing him away) 

Jack (haughtily). Mr. Purceval, I believe I have 
performed my function, that of chaperone, so I will bid 
you good evening. (Boivs to Steve, disregarding his ex- 
tended hand; hows coldly to Janet) [EXIT d. c. 

Steve (puzzled, looking after Jack). Janet, what did 
that young fellow mean ? 



A Bad Beginning 13 

Janet {going up to him; he tries to emhrace her; she 
eludes him), Stephen, Mr. Howard came here with me 
because I could not come alone, now could I ? 

Steve. Certainly not ; in fact, I could not understand 
why you came here at all. I wanted to go to you. 

Janet. Yes, yes, I know. (Steve tries to emhrace 
her; she hacks away) No, Stephen, you know the door is 
open, and by your orders. 

Steve {going toward door). Then I'll close it. 

Janet. No, please don't. We can talk quite as well 
with it open. {Looks fearfully ahout) Won't you sit 
down? {She sits) 

Steve {looking gloomily and seating hiynself near 
her). All right, sweetheart, just as you say. You know 
you can't blame me for wanting to hug you just once, 
after all this time. 

Janet. I don 't blame you ; I only blame myself. 

Steve {reaching for her hand; she cautiously with- 
draws it). What do you blame yourself for, dear? 

Janet. I am not what you think me. You do not 
know 

Steve. I know that I love you, that I have had you 
in my mind always since you went away. Your letters 
have been the one cheering thing in my life ; I know 

Janet {interrupting) . Don't, please don't. 

Steve {hewildered) . Why shouldn't I say these 
things to my promised wife ? I should be a 

Janet {interrupting in mock misery). Stephen, you 
do not understand ; I am not your promised wife. 

Steve {dazed). Not my My God, Janet, what 

do you mean? Didn't you say in your letter that you 
would answer my proposal when we met? Isn't that 
the same as a promise ? Haven 't I come all the way here 

to ask you, and now you say Oh, I see ; you must 

excuse me; I haven't gone about this in the right way; 
a letter is one thing, but talking straight from the shoul- 
der is another.. Now I see how it is — a girl wants a man 
to speak right out, doesn't she? Well, sweetheart, I'm 
here to ask you face to face. {Pauses, looks toward 



14 ' A Bad Beginning 

door) Can't I close that door? (J a-^^et Uissents) I'm 
here, dear, to ask you 

Janet {stopping him). Please listen, Steve. You 
must not ask me ; I am not able. {Aside) Oh, what shall 
I say? {To Steve) Steve, my people are obdurate; 
they will never permit our engagement 

Steve. Now, don't Avorry, my girl; I know your 
people think I am poor and won't be able to provide for 
you properly, but I'll fool 'em. I haven't said a word 
to you, but I am far away from being a poor man. See 
here. {Goes to dresser; hurriedly takes out papers) 
Here they are, darling ; deeds to properties, all good and 
all free and clear. {Goes to Janet and tries to show 
papers. She waves him away; he looks dumhfounded) 

Janet. Steve, I see you will not comprehend. My 
people would never consent, no matter how rich you 
were. 

Steve {forcibly). What do I care for your people? 
It is you I want, and I am well able to take care of you ; 
you shall have everything you want. 

Janet {aside, worried). Will this man never under- 
stand? {Aloud) Steve, it cannot be. 

Steve. Janet, listen. I 've just got to have you ; I '11 
do everything to make you happy, even to living in New 
York, if you want to. {Tries again to embrace her) 

Janet {jumping up and away). Steve Purceval, I 
have said I cannot marry you, and I mean it. This has 
all been a misunderstanding; I did not promise to be 
your wife; you have taken my friendly interest in you 
seriously. I admired you as a friend, but as a hus- 
band you are impossible. I am the affianced wife of an- 
other. 

Steve {looking at her, dazed). Promised to another, 
and you didn't mean what you said to me? 

Janet. You misunderstood me, that was all. 

Steve {speaking slowly, as if not fully comprehend- 
ing). Oh, that was all, was it? I didil't understand. 
I guess you're right ; I've been pretty thick. I was good 
enough for a stop-gap and for pastime, that's it, past- 



A Bad Beginning 15 

time; to while away your lonely hours. Oh, I under- 
stand now; you're like all of this big cursed camp; all 
show, all tinsel, all {Scatters papers about sav- 
agely) 

Janet (imploring), Steve, listen 

Steve. Don't say another word; about now I think 
you have said enough. {Glancing toivard d. c.) I knew 
that open door would come in handy. Will you please 
use it before I fully realize how utterly unworthy you 
are? {Pointing to d. c. Janet slinks out abashed. 
Steve stands dazed, looking down. Finally turns slowly 
toward door, walks over and closes it; walks down, think- 
ing. Business. Looks about room; slowly picks up 
papers and bunches them) Huh, I guess I need a gov- 
erness to take care of me. I surely am several kinds of 
a fool. {Flings papers from him) But I did think she 
was on the level. She sure did play the game well. 
{Stands thinking) God! I'm disappointed; and now 
she's gone — gone. Oh, hell! what's the use? {Goes to 
'phone) Hello, send up a bottle of Scotch whiskey and 
get it here quick. {Hangs up) Funny I didn't see 
through her game. But maybe it wasn't a game ; maybe 
it's all because I took too much for granted. {Thinks) 
No, that don't explain it; she just naturally played me 
for a sucker. Well, that's what I was, all right. I guess 
any good-looking woman with a hook, a line and a piece 
of lace, could have turned the trick. And I thought I 
knew New York ; oh, yes, you blithering idiot, you know 
New York about as well as an incubator-hatched chicken 
knows Latin. {Knock at d. c.) Come in. (ENTER 
Bell-boy with tray, bottle, glasses, etc. Steve turns to 
him) Set it down. (Boy does so and stands as if wait- 
ing for tip) 

Boy. Did you forget anything, sir ? 

Steve {suddenly confronting him). I've forgotten 
more than you'll ever know. 

Boy {hastily hacking away). All right, sir; yes, sir; 
I only thought 

Steve {savagely). You thought! Say, kid, I thought 



16 A Bad Beginning 

I thought once, but I found out that I didn 't, and maybe 
it 's the same way with you. 

Boy {retiring). Yes, sir, maybe it is. (Aside) He's 
a nut. 

Steve. Wait a minute; get me time-tables on the 
Pennsylvania, all the way to God's country. 

Boy. Are you going to Atlantic City, boss? 

Steve. Atlantic City? Say, don't get fresh with 
me ; I 'm in no mood for it. I 'm going back to Nevada, 
and I want to get there as soon as I can. 

Boy {about to leave). Ah, now I get your drift, 
Mister ; you don 't care for the white lights, the cabarays 
and all that stuff 

Steve. Now you're talking. {Turns away) 

Boy {sliaking his head). Gee! and they say he's got 
money. {Tapping head) Nobody home. [EXIT d. c. 

Steve {goes to table, draws cork from bottle and pours 
drink; raises glass part way to lips; looks into it). So, 
my old friend Scotch, you've come back to help me to 
forget myself ; now, that 's very kind of you, but I believe 
I finally dispensed with your services a long while ago. 
Who sent for you? Oh, I did. That's right, I did, but 
that was when a woman had just informed me that I was 
a fool and I believed her. Since then I've been think- 
ing ; she was only partly right. I am not such a fool as 
she and I thought, and I don't want any of your assist- 
ance. {Flings glass, then bottle, into waste-basket. 
Laughs) Say, I came near playing into her hand, didn't 
I? {Straightening up) Now I've got my second wind, 
and I guess I'll live. I think my temperature has fallen 
a little, so by the time those time-tables get here, I '11 be 
able to sit up and have my bed made. And then I'll 
beat it out there where folks do and say things on the 
square. I hope I can start to-night. {Rubs hand over 
chin) That white-coated Baron down stairs made a 
bum job of this shave ; if our ranch barber did a job like 
this he'd be run off the place. {Takes off watch and lays 
it on dresser; removes coat, throwing it on chair) Well, 
thank goodness, I can scrape my own face to my liking. 



A' Bad Beginning 17 

{Takes off collar and He, looking into mirror) You poor 
boob, to ever put on those fool clothes after you'd shook 
'em once. My second breakmg into society was not a 
howling success; I don't think I will make a third at- 
tempt. {Petulantly) Why don't that boy come with 
those time-tables? I'll bet they had to send over to the 
depot for them. Well, I will hear him when he comes. 
{Goes toward d. l. Stops, musing) Steve Purceval, 
you are sure some jack-ass. [EXIT d. l. 

D. c. is opened cautiously, ENTER Anne. Looks 

about room. 

Anne. This is the room, number 518. {Closes door. 
Starts across stage. Knock at d. c. Anne goes to door 
and opens it, disclosing Boy, wJio stares in astonishment) 

Boy {handing time-tables to Anne). Here's the dope 
Mr. S. P. wanted. {Aside) A peach! {Admiring 
Anne) 

Anne {taking tables and coming down). Father 
must expect to take a long trip. {Lays tables on table; 
busies herself about room) 

Boy. Oh, Papa. She ain't no daughter of his'n; 
that's only a blind. {Stands admiring her) 

Anne. That will be all; oh, wait. {Looks in her 
hand-bag ; produces coin and hands it to Boy) 

Boy. Thankee, Miss. {Aside) Oh, joy, S. P. must 
be running a harem. Well, she ain't a tight-wad like 
he is. [EXIT hurriedly d. c. 

Anne {looking about). Now what am I to take? 
{Takes note from bag. Reads) '' Go to the McLaren 
and get some papers you will find on my bureau in 
Room 518." {Goes to dresser) I don't find anything 
here. {Looks about; discovers papers on floor) Oh, 
there they are. {Stoops and picks them up) Oh, daddy, 
daddy, you are dreadfully careless. {Holds papers in 
one hand) Now what else was there? {Reads note) 
" Take my bag and put them and any other articles you 
think I will need into it, and meet me at the Penn. depot. 



18 A Bad Beginning 

I am leaving for Washington on the ten o'clock train. 
I will be at the {Reads in silence, ending with) Dad." 
(Musing) I wonder what else I should take. {Gets 
hag, puts in papers, sees hair brushes, conih, etc., on 
dresser) There are his brushes and his watch and fob. 
Now isn't that careless of him? {Looks at brushes) 
S. P. ; these are surely his. {Puts them into bag; takes 
up watch) Strange, I don't remember the monogram on 
daddy's watch; wonder if it's new. {Lays watch on 
dresser and opens hand-bag) I won't put that in the 
bag. Oh, I am forgetting the time-tables. {Turns to 
go to table; as she does so, knocks over chair; picks it up. 
Takes up time-tables and returns to dresser) 

ENTER Ste\^ d. l. unseen by Anne ; he starts on seeing 
her and pauses at door. Anne puts taMes in bag 
then takes watch and fob and places them in hand- 
bag. Steve tip-toes to d. c. and locks it, putting 
key in pocket. Anne looks down stage, away from 
Steve; concludes she has everything, closes bag and 
turns toward d. c. Steve stands eyeing her at l. 
of D. c. Anne discovers Steve. 

Anne {starting violently). Oh! 

Steve {deliberately) . Are you always as cool as this? 

Anne {frightened) . Wh-what are you doing here? 

Steve. Very good, very good, indeed. I was about 
to ask the same question. 

Anne {very frightened). What do you mean, sir? 

Steve {laughing derisively). Good work, young 
woman, but not exactly necessary. 

Anne {sparring) . You have made a mistake, sir ; this 
room 

Steve {interrupting) . Is mine, and I should like to 
know why you are here, though I think I can guess. 
{Pointing to his bag, ivhich she is carrying) 

Anne (haughtily, going to d. c). You are insolent, 
and I shall have you punished. (Tries door; finds it 
locked) 



A Bad Beginning 19 

Steve {tauntingly). Bravo, little Miss Spitfire, but 
the door is locked and the key is in my poeketo Now 
tell me 

Anne {apprehensively, interrupting). Unlock that 
door. How dare you? 

Steve. Sorry, very sorry, but I cannot comply with 
your request ; that is, not just at present. My first im- 
pulse was to turn you over to the police, but on second 
thought I have concluded to have a little talk with you. 

Anne. Again, sir, I command you to unlock the door ; 
if you do so I will leave at once and say nothing about 
your behavior to the authorities. 

Steve {applaudingly). Fine; and if I don't? 

Anne {defiantly). I shall scream and alarm the 
house. 

Steve {tJiougJitfully) . I wouldn't do that; it would 
be unpleasant for both of us. I can't just see why you 
have elected to play the game this way, but I know you 
New Yorkers have a way all your own, so we will let it 
go at that. I have read of your kind, and I have seen 
a few movies that featured members of your profes- 
sion 

Anne. My profession; what do you mean? {Partly 
comprehending, frightened) Oh, sir, please let me go! 

Steve. Not yet. You at least owe me an explana^ 
tion. I find you in my room, packing up and about to 
decamp with my property. 

Anne. Your room? Your property? 

Steve {quietly). Exactly. I admire your nerve, 
girl, I most assuredly do. You certainly took chances, 
but 

Anne {thoroughly comprehending). You say this is 
your room ? 

Steve. Uh huh. 

Anne. Why, I thought it was 

Steve {deprecatingly) . Don't, please don't; it won't 
do any good. When one is doing this sort of work and 
gets caught, the best way is to tell the truth. Don't say 
yon made a mistake in the room or anything like that, 



20 A Bad Beginning 

it is so hackneyed that one is likely to be peeved. If you 
had by aiiy chance made a mistake in the room, why 
should you be packing up articles so obviously mascu- 
line? 

Anne. Because my father 

Steve (interrupting). Ah, that is better; you are be- 
ginning to get your scenario into workable shape. 
(Places chair) Won't you sit down? 

Anne. I will not; I decidedly prefer to stand. 
(Spoken angrily) 

Steve (sternly). And I prefer that you be seated. 
(Indicates chair. Anne looks apprehensively at him 
and sits suddenly) Someone has said that one listens 
better seated ; and, as I said, I want to talk to you. 

Anne (near to tears). Oh, won't you, please? 

Steve. Now, don't be afraid ; I will not hurt you, and 
perhaps you can convince me that I should not have you 
arrested. 

Anne (half rising; frightened). Arrested! 

Steve. It happens sometimes, doesn't it? 

Anne. Yes — but 

Steve. Then again it doesn't. Now listen to me. 
The excuse about your father was only fair, and I must 
have a better one. You know that you have committed 
a prison offense, and I want to get at the reason. And, 
mark me, I want the truth. You Avere not mistaken in 
the articles you sought to take, for they are mono- 
grammed plainly, as I will show you. (Takes brushes 
from hag, showing hacks, then reaches for hand-hag on 
table; Anne removes it) Your hand-bag, please. (Anne 
finally gives it to him. Steve shows monogram on watch, 
putting it in his pocket) 

Anne (looking understandingly) . Will you please 
tell me your name? 

Steve. Most assuredly; it is Stephen Purceval, as 
you probably already know, since you seem otherwise so 
well informed. (Takes bag up stage) 

Anne (aside, understanding). Stephen Purceval, 
S. P. — oh, what a horrible mistake. 



A Bad Beginning 21 

Steve {looking at her earnestly). Well, what have 
you to say? 

Anne. What are you going to do with me? 

Steve. I haven't quite decided. This is the first 
time I have had the privilege of meeting a woman of 
your kind. (Anne winces) You will excuse me for 
being brutal. I have met cattle and horse thieves, gam- 
blers and several of the masculine varieties, but a woman 
who Well, you're a new one to me. 

Anne {in great distress). Oh, sir, you are terribly 
mistaken. 

Steve. I hope I am, God knows. {Looks sliarply at 
/ler) You have a good look about you; I saw that at 
once, and that is the reason I want to know all about you. 
I am going to try an experiment; if it succeeds, all's 
well ; if it fails, well, it will not be the first time I have 
found that I had much to learn about women. {Looks 
intently at iter) Why is it that women as good-looking 

as you are will Wait a minute {Abruptly turns) 

[EXIT D. L. 

Anne {jumping up, goes toward d. c. then turns 
front). It is no use; he has the key. Oh, daddy, why 
did you send me here? This is a dreadful experience, 
but — I am not a bit frightened noWy and this man- — this 
Stephen Purceval, interests me tremendously. {Hears 
Steve returning j sits suddenly as before) 

RE-ENTER Steve d. l. with wash-cloth and towel. He 
goes to Anne, grasping her chin, raises her face and 
proceeds to wash it. She struggles fiercely, catch- 
ing his wrists, but finally yields. 

Steve {looking at wash-cloth; then joyously). That's 
fine! I owe you an apology. Your complexion is the 
only real thing I have found in New York so far. I 
passed hundreds of painted faces this afternoon. 
{Hands towel to her) I think you can dry your face 
better than I. {Goes up stage. Anne dries face, smil- 
ing covertly) Have you always lived in New York? 



'22 A Bad Beginning 

Anne. Not always, but most of the time. I spend 
the summer at Narragansett Pier or Bar Harbor usually. 

Steve. I believe those are summer resorts ? 

Anne. Yes 

Steve. I suppose you find it most profitable at such 
places ? 

Anne (appealingly) . Mr. Purceval, you vs^rong me. 
I don't suppose you will believe me, but I have never 
done anything like this before. 

Steve. Is that the truth ? 

Anne. Yes, indeed. 

Steve. How much money do you need? 

Anne (startled). Money? 

Steve. Yes; you're in some serious difficulty, aren^t 
you? 

Anne (looking squarely hut miscJiievously at him). I 
need — two thousand dollars. 

Steve (whistles). That is quite a bunch of money, 
but will it make everything all right with you ? 

Anne. It would do a great deal of good; but I must 
tell you, I want it for others. 

Steve. For others? Are you in the power of some- 
one? I would not give a cent if I thought it was to be 
used for " hush money '' or anything of that sort. Be- 
sides, I haven't that amount in cash. 

Anne. Mr. Purceval, I give you my word, no part of 
the money will go for improper purposes, but for the 
care of those to whom I and all of us are deeply indebted. 
I cannot tell you more now, but I do ask you to trust me. 
You think me a thief, and I admit the appearances are 
against me, but some day, perhaps, you will believe me 
worthy. 

Steve (sitting opposite her). Look at me. (She does 
so; he studies her intently; rises and goes to hag) All 
right, I'll take a chance. (Takes fountain-pen and 
check-hook from hag) I am going to give you a check 
for the amount you named. (Comes down to tahle, sits, 
writes; looks at her) To whom shall I make it pay- 
able? 



A Bad Beginning 23 

Anne {who has been watching him, amused). To 
bearer. 

Steve. Why do yon wish to hide your name ? 

Anne. I have asked you to trust me. 

Steve {with decision). And I'll do it. My business 
judgment says I am doing a fool thing, but there is some- 
thing within me that pleads for you. Here is the 
check. {Hands it to her, rises abruptly and turns from 
table) 

Anne {looking at check, then rising and going to 
Steve). Mr. Purceval, you are a man! {Seizes his 
hand impulsively) 

Steve {holding her hand and pressing it to his lips; 
then he drops it) . Don't! {Aside) You infernal fool, 
riding to a fall again and with — what? 

Anne {going to him; placing her hand on his arm). 
Mr. Purceval, I am going to tell you all about myself, 
else you will not believe in me, and I do want you to. 

Steve {taking her by the shoulders and looking at 
her). You're square; I just know it. God knows what 
your reasons are for being here, but I believe in you, and 
I won't let you tear your heart for me. What are you 
and who am I, that you should confess to mef 

Anne. But it is your right. 

Steve. No, it is not; and if it were, I wouldn't have 
it. Now I am going to tell you something. To-night in 
this room, I offered my hand and heart to a woman so 
unworthy that whatever you may have been, at any time, 
you are an angel by comparison. She flung them back 
at me with disdain, and that, too, after she had led me 
to think she cared for me. She is respected in society, I 
presume, and yet she plays fast and loose with the finest, 
noblest elements in man. Would you do that ? 

Anne. I certainly would not ; to my mind the love of 
an honest man is a priceless thing. 

Steve {eagerly) . Do you believe in love at first sight? 

Anne {demurely) . I don't know. 

Steve. What would you think of a man who asked 
you to marry him less than an hour after he met you? ^ 



24 A Bad Beginning 

Anne. My imagination fails me; a woman in my 
position could scarcely think such a thing possible. 

Steve. Well, it is possible, and {seizing Iter hand) 
you are the woman. I don't know what you have been 
through, there is some good reason for it. I ask you 
plainly to marry me and go back to Nevada with me. I 
am sufficiently endowed with this world's goods to pro- 
vide all the material comforts and I offer you the love 
and protection of a lonely man. 

Anne (interrupting). Mr. Purceval, you do not 
know what you are saying. 

Steve. Don 't I ? Well, you can bet I do ; and, what 
is more, I sincerely and soberly mean every word of it. 

Anne. But there is another who 

Steve. You're not married? 

Anne. Goodness, no ; but I cannot decide so serious a 
question as you ask without thought. 

Steve. Is there any other man ? 

Anne. Yes, there is one to whom I take all my wor- 
ries. 

Steve {looks dejected mid turns away), I might have 
known. 

Anne. Now don 't look so ; I mean my father. 

Steve. Your father? {Joyously) 

Anne. Yes, the very same father I came here for. 

Steve. Then you are not 

Anne {interrupting). Yes, I am, I confess it. I 
know, for you have told me so; I am a thief. Now I 
must go, when you open the door ; I fear my father will 
be very angry because of my not having met him long 
since. Will you open the door? {Removes glove from 
right hand) 

Steve. My dear Goodness, I don't even know 

your name 

Anne. It is Anne. Will you open the door? {As 
she tries to put glove in hand-hag she drops it to the 
floor) 

Steve. Anne, will you marry me? 

Anne. Stephen Purceval, I will give you my answer 



A Bad Beginning 25 

after I have seen my father, and after he has seen you. 
I cannot say more, and now, good-night. {Extends her 
Jiand. Steve takes it and kisses it tenderly. Steve 
goes to D. c, unlocks and opens it. Just before passing 
out Anne drops note on floor, and smiles sweetly at 
Steve) 

Steve. To-morrow? You know I trust and believe 
in you. 

Anne. Certainly not later than to-morrow; good- 
night — Stephen. 

[EXIT hurriedly d. c. throiving a kiss to Steve 

Steve (stands a moment looking after her, then turns 
sloivly and goes down) . Humph! Good-night, -S^ep/ieii. 
(Stands ruminating; sees glove on floor, picks it up and 
stands passing it tenderly through his hands. After 
Steve goes down, Jack comes into view in d. c. from l. 
He looks R. after Anne, then into room; steps into room, 
closes door carefully and comes down behind Steve) 

Jack (angrily). You cur! 

Steve (surprised, turns sharply). Eh, what's that? 

Jack ( hands clenched ) . You heard what I said. 

Steve (coolly). Mebbe I did and mebbe I didn't. 

Jack (exasperated). I said you cur, and I meant 
you. 

Steve. Yeh? Why is this thus? 

Jack. You dirty sneak! 

Steve (showing anger). Say, Howard, I believe 
that's your name, you're using rather bad language; I 
don't like your manner, either. (Throws glove on table) 

Jack (taunting). Oh, you don't? We break even, 
then. 

Steve (menacing). You get out of here, and get out 
quick. 

Jack (sidlenly, but backing away). You can't scare 
me. I came for an explanation of your conduct toward 
the lady who has just left, and 

Steve (cooling). So that's your lay, is it? Well, 
well, are you the man she 's promised to ? 

Jack. No ; I wish I were. But I am her friend, and 



26 A Bad Beginning 

I'd go to the devil for her. She has been in this 
room 

Steve. Great. What a wonderful guesser you are, 
to be sure ; you brought her in here, didn 't you 1 

Jack (puzzled). Whom do you think I mean? 

Steve. My, but you have a short memory ; Miss Cow- 
drey and you were both here when 



Jack (interrupting). I don't mean Jier, and you 
know I don't. 

Steve. Do you know what you are talking about? 
If you don 't mean her, whom do you mean ? 

Jack. I mean Miss Pennington. 

Steve. Miss Pennington (Understanding) You 

mean the young lady who just left this room? 

Jack. Come now, none of that bunk; you know 
mighty well what 

Steve (interrupting). You know that girl; who is 
she? 

Jack. If you're sparring for time, I want to tell you 
it 's useless. I 'm desperate, and I 'm going to know why 
you had Anne Pennington in this room, with the door 
locked, if I have to choke it out of you. 

'^T^N'E, (not noticing) . Anne Pennington ! Has she a 
father? 

Jack. Well, rather ; and when Sherwood Pennington 
knows what I know, you will answer to him too. (Picks 
up glove from table and coynmences playing with it, 
laugJiing sarcastically the while) 

Steve (aside). Sherwood Pennington — S. P. — the 
same initials as mine. (Turns to Jack as if to speak, 
then continues, aside) Heavens, can this be a form of 
the badger game? I can't believe it of her — but again, 
she w^as in here — and — stealing. (Turns and sees Jack 
playing ivith glove. He is furious, and going over to 
him, grabs glove) Give me that glove. (Then continues 
menacingly) You talk of explanations; you're going 
to do some explaining to me right here and now. (Jack 
struggles, but is forced to a chair and into it) Now, if 
you don't want me to pound you to a jelly, talk and talk 



A Bad Beginning 27 

fast. You came here with Janet Cowdrey and left pecul- 
iarly; you have been hanging around here trying doors 
and generally acting suspiciously ; now you come bluster- 
ing in here. Get down to brass tacks and don't try to 
fool with me, for I've had enough. 

Jack {trying to rise, hut Steve pushes liim roughly 
hack). You'll get more before I'm through with you; 
you have compromised one of the finest girls in this city, 
and you'll pay. 

Steve. I'd ought to be used to paying by this time, 
but you are going to tell me who this Miss Pennington, as 
you call her, is, who you are and who her father is. Now 
start. 

Jack {looking puzzled). Why, she is Miss 

Steve {threatening) . Cut that! Who is she? 

Jack. Why, she is the sweetest girl in 

Steve. Mebbe I think I know that. Do you know 
her? 

Jack. Of course I know her. What do you think? 
And what's more, if she'll have me, I'm going to marry 
her. 

Steve. Well, she won't. 

Jack. How do you know that? 

Steve. That 's my business. {Disturhed) Say, young 
man, has she ever promised to marry you ? 

Jack. No — not exactly. 

Steve. Has she encouraged you in any way? 

Jack. Well, I can't say that she has, not in that way. 

Steve. What do you mean by *'that way''? 

Jack. Oh, you know. 

Steve. I 'm afraid I don 't ; however, you may be able 
to help me with a little information ; what was she doing 
here? 

Jack. You certainly are some ''bull-shooter"; what 
was she doing here? That is exactly what I want to 
know, 

Steve. I can't tell you. 

Jack. You mean you won't. 

Steve. No, I can't; I don't know. 



28 A Bad Beginning 

Jack. A very likely story, indeed. (Sarcastically) 
What do you suppose? 

Steve. Frankly, Howard, I suppose she was a 

(Recollects, as lie looks at glove he still holds) No mat- 
ter what I supposed. I want to know about her ; all that 
you will tell me. I am mightily interested in her. 

Jack (sneering). So it seems. 

Steve (hotly). Howard, I don't like your manner of 
speaking. (Tucks glove in waistcoat pocket) 

Jack (as hotly). And I don't like your manner of 
acting. You say you are interested in her, and you 
don 't know why she was here. 

Steve. That is the truth ; but we are not getting any- 
where. You seem to think you have a grievance against 
me, and maybe you have, but I want to play fair. I 
mean that. I had hoped to marry Miss Pennington. 

Jack. That 's nothing ; so had I, and I still hope to. 

Steve (startled). Is that so? 

Jack. Absolutely. 

Steve. And may I ask by what right ? 

Jack. Because I love her. 

Steve. That's only one-sided; does she love you? 

Jack. I don't know. How do you stand? 

Steve. Have you ever spoken to her of love ? 

Jack. N-o. 

Steve. Then on what do you base your hope? 

Jack. What right have you to ask that ? 

Steve. Absolutely none ; but as I said, I want to play 
fair. If you have a claim upon the lady, I'll quit right 
now ; otherwise I am in the race, and I '11 stay until I 'm 
beaten or disqualified. 

Jack. Is that a challenge ? 

Steve. No, it is just a statement of fact. The lady 
is worth fighting for. 

Jack. How about Miss Cowdrey? 

Steve. She isn't. 

Jack. You said it! You seem to be able to shift your 
interest with alacrity. 

Steve. Not me. Miss Cowdrey attended to that; I 



A Bad Beginning 29 

thought I had some speed, but she was too high-geared 
for me, as she pointed out. 

Jack. I knew about that; and she was equally con- 
siderate of me. 

Steve. What, were you in love with her too ? 

Jack. I thought so until she convinced me to the 
contrary. 

Steve. When was that? 

Jack. A couple of hours ago. 

Steve. Then up to two hours since Miss Pennington 
was not the object of your affections? 

Jack. But I have known Anne for a long time. 

Steve. That's where you beat me. Up to an hour 
ago I didn't know of her existence. 

Jack. And you complain of lack of speed ? 

Steve. Is that commendation or criticism? 

Jack. I hardly know; you keep me guessing. I 
don't understand you. 

Steve {going over and putting Jiand on his shoulder). 
Howard, I like you. I think I understand you. Let me 
make a guess at the conditions surrounding your affaires 
d 'amour. How about it? 

Jack. Shoot. 

Steve. You have known Miss Cowdrey some time 

Jack. Oh, forget it. 

Steve. Just a moment, then we'll both forget it — 
and — her. You were in love with her, or thought you 
were ; she fascinated you, and you were flattered because 
she allowed you to dance attendance upon her, to fetch 
and carry for her, and when she had gotten through with 
you, she consigned you to the scrap-pile. So far, how 
good? 

Jack. Good, but you haven't anything on me in that 
respect. 

Steve. Exactly; so far we run neck and neck. Now 
we'll bury that little romance, inscribe ^'Requiescat in 
Pace" on its headstone, and proceed to the consideration 
of another romance — sadder, but wiser men. 

Jack. You refer to Anne? 



30 A Bad Beginning 

Steve. You're on. 

Jack. I must decline to discuss Miss Pennington witli 
you. 

Steve. You've already done so, Howard. By the 
way, what is your first name ? 

Jack (sullenly). John. 

Steve. All right, I'll call you Jack; it sounds more 
neighborly, and you just call me Steve, will you? 

Jack. Oh, I don 't care ; all I want to know from you 
is what Anne was doing in your company and by 

Steve {interrupting). Just a moment, Jack, we're 
coming to that. {Long pause) Miss Pennington would 
scarcely thank us for talking about her, even though her 
family connections are not all that we could wish. 

Jack. What have you against her family? It is one 
of the very best in New York. 

Steve {appearing pleased, then assuming surprise). 
You surprise me. One of the poor but proud old fami- 
lies, eh? 

Jack. Proud, yes ; but poor, no. 

Steve. So? I suppose, then, that Miss Pennington 
has abundant funds, enough to supply her needs? 

Jack. "Well, I have never heard of Anne being finan- 
cially embarrassed. 

Steve. But she may have been ? 

Jack. I can't imagine such a thing. Her father is a 
millionaire of the multi variety. 

Steve. I was under the impression that she was not 
financially well ofP. 

Jack. I wish I were equally * ' well off . " 

Steve. What would you do ? 

Jack. I 'd marry her so quick that it would take your 
breath away. 

Steve. So you think she would have no objections if 
you had plenty of money ? 

Jack. Money is a powerful argument with any girl. 

Steve. No doubt you have had experience enough to 
enable you to speak authoritatively ; I doubt if Miss Pen- 
nington would sell herself to any one. 



A Bad Beginning 31 

Jack. I didn't say she would; I feel that she would 
marry a man as poor as I if she loved him ; and I 'm some 
poor when it comes to money. 

Steve. How many years must pass, do you think, 
before you will be in a position to ask Miss Pennington, 
or any other girl, to marry you ? 

Jack. I don't know, Steve; that's the devil of it; I 
get only a thousand dollars a year, and raises don't come 
very fast. 

Steve. How old are you? 

Jack. Nearly twenty. 

Steve (luith mock seriousness) . My, my, I don't won- 
der you are discouraged. An old man like you, and get- 
ting only a thousand a year ; that 's almost bad enough to 
drive one to drink or oft to the Fiji Islands or something, 
isn't it? 

Jack (petulantly) . Oh, I 've wanted to get away 
from here for a long time. I'd like to go into mining 
engineering out West, and I should have done it, too, if 
it hadn 't been for 

Steve (interrupting). Janet* 

Jack (mimicking). No, not Janet! 

Steve. She was your inamorata up to a couple of 
hours ago, wasn't she? 

Jack. You've got a lot to say. 

Steve. I ain 't saying a word, am I ? 

Jack. Well, it wasn't she. 

Steve. And it wasn 't Miss Anne either, was it ? 

Jack. I don't suppose it was, exactly. 

Steve. As a matter of fact, wasn't it the girls in gen- 
eral? 

Jack (desperately). Oh, I don't know. 

Steve. What are you working at now ? 

Jack. I am with a brokerage concern. 

Steve. Um-m; and you would like to get into some- 
thing where you could make blood, rather than suck it, 
like a leech? 

Jack. Isn't the brokerage business perfectly honor- 
able? 



32 A Bad Beginning 

Steve. That depends, I suppose, on the point of view. 
To me, it seems a lot like stealing the fruits of others' 
work. The broker produces nothing, yet he lives off the 
ones that do. 

Jack. Do you know, Steve, that idea has struck me 
before? 

Steve. But not so hard that it hurt ? 

Jack. Yes, it has; it has hurt many times. I have 
wanted to get out and do something. Something worth 
while. But whenever I speak of it at home, my folks 
make such a row that I just drop the matter. Mater 
says, her father (who was a broker) did something in 
life 

Steve {aside). Or somebody. 

Jack. And dad has never had any business. 

Steve. How is that? 

Jack. "Well, he didn 't need any ; he had two fortunes 
willed to him. 

Steve. So? How is it that you are not lounging 
about, waiting your turn at those fortunes ? 

Jack. Oh, I couldn't stand that sort of an existence. 
I've seen too much to be content with that way of liv- 
ing. 

Steve. You spoke of taking up engineering. Have 
you had any training in that line ? 

Jack. I wouldn't call it training, but rather a little 
insight into it ; a very little at that, but enough to make 
me want more. 

Steve. Then why haven't you gotten it? 

Jack. My folks always tried to discourage me. Oh, 
I don't suppose yoii can understand. I just hadn't the 
necessary ''pep" to strike out. 

Steve (rising and going to him, hand on shoulder). 
Yes, Jack, I do understand; my own early experiences 
were a heap like yours, only I didn't do anything for 
myself until it was well nigh too late ; so late, in fact, 
that I had neither the time nor inclination to tackle a 
professional career. What I have gotten has been by hard 
work, often of a menial character. You are young, with 



A Bad Beginning 33 

loads of time to get where you want to, and now*s your 
chance to start, my boy. I can help you, and I will, if 
you will only help yourself. 

Jack {extending hand). You will? (Steve takes 
his hand) You really mean that? 

Steve. Try me. I will put you in touch with real 
live wires that will give you your opportunity. There 
will not be much compensation in the beginning, prob- 
ably, barely enough for your necessary expenses — ^unless 
— your people will help you with some funds. 

Jack. Nix on my people, Steve ; if I can't make good 
without them I '11 just throw up my mitts and go on as 
I am. (Steve looks pleased) I should have broken 
loose before this, and now I'll be blamed if I don't do it. 
I want your help, for I know it will be real help. 

Steve. That 's the stuff, boy. I '11 boost you all I can, 
but I won 't carry you a damned inch. 

Jack. Thank you, old man, I can't start too soon. 

Steve. Good! As soon as it can be arranged you 
shall meet the people I have in mind, and that ought to 
be within the week. Meanwhile, plug along as you are 
and get the home folks to your way of thinking, if pos- 
sible. You're going to make good, and they'll all be 
proud of you. 

Jack. And — I know Anne will be pleased. 

Steve (reflecting). Undoubtedly — and perhaps — she 
will reward you — when you win. 

Jack. I don't know how you mean that, but I can tell 
you one thing, — she would prefer you to me, no matter 
how far I made good. She has always been bully to me, 
but I'm a **kid" to her; I know it now. I'm sorry I 
spoke as I did about her being here with you. It was 
dirty. (Steve deprecates) Yes, it was, and I'm 
ashamed of it. I know her well enough to make my sus- 
picion inexcusable. 

Steve. Jack, you are the kind of stuff from which 
heroes are made. Some day you will find the girl you 
want, and who will want you. But, take my advice, 
don't try until you have gotten something spiritual and 



34 A Bad Beginning 

material to offer her. Then you will make a good job 
of it. 

Jack. I'll remember your words, Steve, and heed 
them. But, say, don't ever tell Anne what I did, will 
you? 

Steve {ruminating). I may never have an oppor- 
tunity. After what has happened, I doubt if I have the 
nerve to go on. 

Jack. Oh, your nerve will hold good enough; I saw 
her look at you as she left, and a look like that, in my 
direction, would land me beside her at the altar, in spite 
of everything. And now I 'm going ; I '11 count the min- 
utes until I get started on the new road. You won't 
mind if I run in here to see you once in a while, will you ? 
You '11 be here, I suppose 1 

Steve. I don't know. Jack, that depends. But you 
can always reach me should it be necessary. Give me 
your address, and I will get in touch with you at the 
earliest possible moment. 

Jack {taking out and lianding card). But where can 
I get you if you leave here ? 

Steve. Oh, that's so; in care of Frank H. Bell, 120 
Broadway, Koom 480. 

Jack {having written address, looks at Steve, mus- 
ing). Say, Steve, is this the Frank Bell that Janet is 
engaged to? 

Steve. Janet! Frank! You've hit it! It's as clear 
as day now. She threw me over for 

Jack {interrupting) , Me? — Us, you mean. 

Steve. That's right. Us. I accept the amendment. 
She threw us over for my old chum Bell ; he said some- 
thing about Janet, but I was thinking of other things 
and didn't catch on. Poor old Frank, I'm sorry for 
him. 

Jack. Poor old scout ; too bad he doesn't slip away to 
the Sahara Desert. I guess he's signed up for a little 
world war of his own, eh ? 

Steve. A real what Sherman said it was. Jack. 
{Loud knock d, q, Steve hastily gathers up coat, etc., 



A Bad Beginning 35 

and runs to d. l.) Open the door, Jack, while I get some 
clothes on. ^ ^ [EXIT d. l. 

Jack (opens door, disclosing Anne and Bell, who 
ENTER. Aside) . Well, I '11 be 

Anne {extending hand to Jack). This is certainly a 
surprise, Jack. I didn 't know you were acquainted with 
Mr. Purceval. 

Jack {blurting out). That's not very strange, since 
you 've only known him {Recollects and stammers) 

Anne. What were you saying? 

Jack. Oh, nothing. I understood you — had only 
met — Steve, I mean Mr. Purceval, recently. ( Bell looks 
surprised) 

Anne {graciously). That is quite right, Jack, only 
about an hour ago. 

Jack {aside). That's what Steve said. {Aloud — 
nervously) Exactly, about an hour ago. 

Bell. Why, Miss Pennington, I don't understand 
this. I did not know you were acquainted with Stephen. 
(Jack looks curiously at both) 

Anne. I know that, Mr. Bell; that is why I asked 
permission to accompany you here, when father asked you 
to see Mr. Purceval, if possible, to-night. I wanted you 
to identify me and isn't it splendid, Jack is here, too? 
{Both Bell and Jack look hopelessly puzzled) Mr. 
Purceval will surely believe his old friends. 

Jack. Who, me? Old friend, oh, boy! 

Bell. But you never said 

Anne. I know. I must explain. I said nothing, 
for I didn't know whether we would see Mr. Purceval. 
{Looks about) He isn't here anyway. 

Jack {motions silence). Sh, sh, he's in there (Points 
to L.) making himself look pretty. 

Anne. That is where he came from before. 

Bell. Before? 

Anne. Yes. When I was here before, he came out 
of that door, and he certainly gave me a fright. You 
see, I was stealing his watch. 

Bell and Jack. His watch! 



36 A Bad Beginning 

Anne. Yes, and his fob and hair-brushes and bag 
and, oh, everything. 

Jack. Anne, you're raving; you're not well; 
you 're 

Bell {trying to take Tier arm). You're going right 
home. 

Anne. I am not. (Starting hack) I am going to 
stay right here until Stephen Purceval knows what a vile 
creature I am. 

Jack (coaxing). Now, Anne, come, be a good little 
girl and go home. (To Bell) Let us humor her. (To 
Anne) You shall come down here to-morrow and let 
Stephen see, whatever you wish to be — and — and 

Anne. No, indeed, there is no time like the present. 
(Sees note she dropped on the floor, pounces upon it) 
See, see here it is; the proof of my guilt. (Hands note 
to Bell) Head it, then curse me if you will. (Mock 
tragedy. Bell takes letter with hesitation. Jack re- 
gards her with concern) 

Bell (reading furtively). *'Go to the McLaren and 
get some papers you will find on my bureau in Room 
518 " 

Anne (interrupting) . That's it, Eoom 518; you read 
it the same as I. (Goes to d. c. ; opens it; pointing to 
number) And behold, this is No. 518! 

Bell. Yes, yes, but what does 

Anne (interrupting). Proceed — read on. (Jack 
looks over Bell's shoulder) 

Bell (reading). ''Take my bag and put them and 
any other articles you may think I need into it and meet 
me at the Penn. depot" 

Anne. There, you see, there is the proof. 

Jack. Proof of what ? 

Anne (dramatically). That I am — oh, how shall I 
say it, that I am a thief. (As Anne makes this speech 
Steve ENTERS from d. l. He stands dumbfounded at 
door) 

Bell. A thief ? 

Jack. A thief ? 



A Bad Beginning] ' 37 

Anne (espzes Steve). Yes, a thief. (To Bell) Look 
at the signature on that note. 

Bell {doing so). There is only the word *'Dad." 

Anne. Whom do you think wrote it ? 

Bell. Why, this is all in your father's hand, I should 
say. 

Jack. Blame me, if I can see what this is all about. 

Anne. Jack, you are positively dull. I came here 
as directed by my esteemed parent and was told to go 
right up ; I did. The door was unlocked and I entered. 
I proceeded to do as I had been bidden, when lo, a man 
was standing there. {Points to d. l. Steve stands 
eagerly listening) That man! He had locked the door 
and I was trapped — trapped! 

Steve {coming forward). Yes trapped, and — I ac- 
cused her of being a thief. 

Anne. Which was perfectly natural, since I had his 
watch, etcetera, and was preparing to decamp with same. 
Neither of us is to blame if the number of father's room 
was 318. {Looks about humorously) 

Jack {dancing ah out) . Oh bo^/? this is some movie. 

Steve. Shut up, Jack, this is a tragedy. 

Bell. If you will pardon me, I think it is farce, pure 
and simple. 

Anne. Mr. Purceval is right, to us it was tragedy 
sure enough — for a little while. 

Jack. And then, and then? {Hums "Here comes 
the bride*') 

Anne {shocked). Jack Howard, it is far past your 
bedtime ; go home at once. 

Bell {looking from Steve to Anne). And so this is 
how you two met; you have not been formally intro- 
duced ? 

Jack. Too late, Mr. Bell (Mock rhetoric), two souls 
tried in the fires of 

Steve {menacing). What did I tell you. Jack? 

Jack. Oh, come now, both of you. 

Bell. This is a most extraordinary experience. 

Anne {roguishly). Simply terrible! 



38 ' A Bad Beginning 

Steve. But one for which I shall be very thankful, — 
if Miss Pennington can find it in her heart to forgive me. 

Anne. What have I to forgive? This has been an 
experience t^at I would not have missed for worlds. I 
have had a lesson in magnanimity to-night, that is sub- 
lime. (Looks pointedly at Steve) 

Bell. I am so glad you two are friends. 

Jack. You mean we three. 

Steve. Why not make it we four? 

Anne. That's it, we should call ourselves the Mc- 
Laren quartette. 

Bell {laugliiiig) , Very good, Miss Pennington, but 
we are forgetting your father's instructions. 

Anne {to Steve). Oh, yes, father wanted Mr. Bell 
to ask you to meet him in Washington to-morrow after- 
noon. Mr. Bell knows the particulars of the proposition. 

Bell. Mr. Pennington thinks well of your mine, 
Steve, and wants to meet you to go into the matter. 
(Steve hows) Now I propose that we have a bite to eat 
before we take Miss Pennington home. What do you 
say? 

Steve. That suits me all right. 

Anne (turning). Suppose we go then. 

Jack. Fine, come on. (All start toward D. c. Anne 
c, Steve r., Bell l., Jack r. front) 

ENTER Janet d. c, 'brusquely. 

Bell (surprised). Janet! (Steve steps partly out 
of sight heside bureau) 

Anne (stepping forward and extending liand cor- 
dially) . This is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Cowdrey. 

Janet (not noticing Tiand). I can readily believe 
that. Miss Pennington. (To Bell) So tMs is the rea- 
son you did not keep your appointment with me, is it ? 

Bell. Why, Janet, I did not think it would matter 
to you and there was some business that 

Janet {interrupting, sarcastically) , Business, huh — 
keeps you late, doesn't it? 



A Bad Beginning ^d 

Anne (angrily). Miss Cowdrey, I am obliged to take 
cognizance of your manner. Mr. Bell is here on busi- 
ness and your implied doubt, in the circumstances, is not 
pleasant. 

Janet. Indeed f Well, Miss Pennington, if my re- 
marks strike home, you may apply them as you see fit. 

Jack (coming forward). Say, Janet, you are going 
too far, I 

Bell (interrupting, with dignity), I can handle this 
matter without assistance. 

Jack (blurting out). Then you are better equipped 
than she was (Pointing to Janet) earlier in the evening 
and in this same room. 

Janet (starting and glancing about. Aside), I didn 't 
recognize the room. 

Bell (puzzled). In this room, what does he mean, 
Janet? 

Steve (stepping forward and looking at Janet, who 
starts violently upon seeing him. He looks meaningly 
at Anne). Perhaps I can best explain the matter, 
Frank ; Miss Cowdrey called here this evening to negoti- 
•ate a transfer of certain obligations pertaining to the 
Janet mine. Mr. Howard accompanied her. I met Miss 
Cowdrey when she was in the West, and we invested in 
some of the same securities. (Looks sharply at Janet 
and then at Anne, who, understanding, nods approval) 

Janet (assuming gaiety, looking furtively at Anne). 
Of course, that's it. Cannot you serious people take a 
joke? 

Jack (aside to Steve and Anne). Can you beat 
that? (They all exchange glances and smile) 

Bell (laughing boisterously). Come now, that's 
good; you gave us all quite a start. I never knew you 
had met Steve. 

Janet. Oh, yes, Mr. Purceval was very kind to me 
and helped me greatly with advice about investments and 
so forth. 

Jack (aside, swaggering down). And so fifth — and 
so sixth 



40 A Bad Beginning 

Janet (coming to Anne, who is seated R. of table), 
I met Mr. Barnes on Broadway, and he said Frank was 
up here ; so I ran up to ask him to see me home. (Anne 
looks coldly at her and slightly incli^ies her head) 

Jack {to Steve). Barnes is another poor simp on 
her staff. (Steve nods) 

Janet (conciliating). I trust you will not take my 
remarks amiss, Miss Pennington, I really was only 
joking. 

Anne (pointedly). You need not explain your ac- 
tions to me, Miss Cowdrey, and I am only interested in 
your remarks, in so far as they reflect upon me; then I 
shall require an accounting, I assure you. (Turns away 
from her) 

Bell {anxious to cover for Janet). Now that we are 
all here, let's go down together and have a bite. 

Anne (turning to Bell). Thank you, Mr. Bell, but 
I think I will go directly home; Mr. Purceval and Jack 
will see that I don't get lost, won't you? (Looking at 
hoth, who nod vigorously in the affirmative) 

Steve (in tone of dismissal). I will meet you at the 
depot in the morning, Frank. What time does the train 
leave 1 

Bell. At nine. (Going to Anne and extending 
hand) Good-night, Miss Pennington. 

Anne (shaking his hand). Good-night. 

Bell (shaking Steve's hand). Good-night, old man, 
don't miss the train. 

Steve. Never fear, I'll be there. 

Bell (to Jack). Good-night, Jack. 

Jack. So long, Mr. Bell. 

Janet (with sweeping how to all, graciously) . Good- 
night. (Omnes how hut do not speak; Janet stalks 
haughtily out of d. c. while Bell waits courteously. He 
follows Janet out with humiliated expression) 

Steve (looking after them). There goes the end of a 
life-time friendship. (Walks down l.) Dear old chap, 
I 'm sorry. 

Jack. Yes, he is to be pitied; but maybe he'll escape. 



A Bad Beginning 41 

Anne. But how can he? 

Jack. Steve, suppose he goes out West with me ? 

Anne (looking inquiringly at both). Out West? 

Steve. I must tell you, Anne dear, — ^may I call you 
that? 

Anne (demurely). I should not have returned if — 
I were unwilling. 

Steve (placing arm partly about her). Bless you 
for that. I was about to tell you that Jack has con- 
cluded to abandon his present avocation and take a man 's 
job at mining engineering out my way. 

Anne (to Steve). Is that true? (Steve nods) 
Yes? (Then going to Jack) Oh, you splendid boy! 
I am so proud of you. (Patting his arm) 

Jack. Thank you, Anne. (Aside) Who ever heard 
of a * ' splendid boy" ? I wonder if I won 't ever grow up. 

Steve. Suppose we carry out that *'bite" program 
that was proposed so long ago. (Anne 7iods assent) 

Jack (grabbing hat and going up c). You'll have 
to excuse me; I'm going home and to bed. 

Anne (stopping him). Jack, you won't refuse me; 
to-night means so much to us, all three, that we should 
*' break bread" together. I feel certain that Stephen 
also wants you to come. 

Steve. You bet I do; Jack here is some boy. (To 
Jack) You are our friend and the party would not be 
complete without you. 

Jack. Oh, that's all right, but I know you two want 
to be alone and 

Steve (play f idly slapping him). Shut up, eTack. 
(Taking Anne's arm) Come on, we won't get a table if 
we don't move. 

Jack (going). Let me go and select the table; you 
elderly people can follow leisurely. 

[EXIT with a laugh d. c. 

Anne. Isn't he a splendid fellow, Stephen? 

Steve. He sure is. 

Anne (roguishly) . Stephen, I have your check here. 
(Points to hand-bag) 



42 A Bad Beginning 

Steve. Have you, dear heart ? 

Anne. Do you want it back? 

Steve. Surely not. What are you going to do 
with it? 

Anne. If it pleases you, it will go to the Red Cross ; 
that was what I had in mind — while I was under sus- 
picion. 

Steve {shaking finger at her). You are still under 
suspicion, in fact I know you will steal. So give the 
check for that noble cause and we will work together for 
it. (Leads her d. c.) And in that way we can partly 
atone for a bad beginning. 

Anne. All right, dear, 1 11 give up the check, but I '11 
keep the rest of my stealings. (Smiling tenderly) 

Steve (to audience). She called me dear. (Anne 
steps out D. c.) One moment, please. (Taking her glove 
from pocket, Anne turns) Your glove. (Holding it 
high. She reaches for it. Steve embraces and kisses 
her, Anne runs off, Steve following) 



QUICK CURTAIlSr 



COMEDIES AND DRAMAS 



THE GIRL FROM PORTO RICO 

Comedy in Three Acts. Five Males, Three Females 
By Joseph Le Brandt 

One Interior scene, Mr. Mite's fiery daughter, Dina, marries with 
a view of subjugating her husband and making his life a torture, but 
finds her master in Jacl£, who finally wins her love. Plays two and 
a half hours. 

PRICE 25 CENTS 

^■■1 M 11 .1 — ■»■ ■■■ I — — ■-■ - -I —- - ■■■■ ,,, . »_»,_ .^ , ,, M^t e % 

MY UNCLE FROM INDIA 

Comedy in Four Acts. Thirteen Males, Four Females 
By Harold Sander 
Two Interior, one exterior scene. By doubling, can be played by 
nine males, and three females. Adopted from the same German 
eomedy upon which the ever popular " Private Secretary " is based. 
The action throughout the play is brisk and without a moment's 
break. Plays two and a half hours. 

PRICE 25 CENTS 

A STEW IN A STUDIO ; or, CABBAGE VERSUS ROSES 

Eccentric Comedy in Three Acts. Eleven Males, Eight Females 
By Amelia Sanford 

Two interior scenes. A series of clever situations result In serious 
complications and arrests. The court-room scene is bevv'ilderingly 
funny. The entire play is a bright and irresistible novelty. Plays 
one and a quarter hours. 

PRICE 15 CENTS 

PHYLLIS'S INHERITANCE ; or, A FIGHT for a FORTUNE 

Comedy in Three Acts. Six Males, Nine Females 
By Frank H. Bernard 

One interior, one exterior scene. Phyllis, Philip's wife, Is to In- 
herit a fortune from an East Indian uncle, provided she marries his 
adopted son, who is about to visit her. Two men call with intro- 
ductory letters, which she does not read, supposing each in turn .to 
be the adopted son. The climax is one of an unexpected type. Plays 
two hours. 

PRICE 25 CENTS 

BILLY'S BUNGALOW 

Comedy in Three Acts. Five Males, Four Females 

By Eleanor Maud Crane 

One interior scene. The amusing episodes of a house-party at 
Billy's new bungalow on Cedar Island. The situations are both 
serious and ludicrous, and the climax dramatically effective. Plays 
two hours. 

PRICE 25 CENTS 

"^ A WHITE LIE 

Comedy Drama in Four Acts. Four Males^ Three Females 
By Horace C. Dale 
A favorite play with all audiences. It abounds in laughable comedy 
features and strong situations of serious interest. Each charactft* 
offers scope for fine acting. Plays two and a half hours, 

PRICE 25 CENTS 



FAUCES 



A DOCTOR BY COXJItTESY; OR, A JOLLY MIX UP 

Farce in Three Acts. Six Males, Five Females 
By Ullie Akeestrom 
•?Jwo interior scenes. Costumes modern. Sly's father-in-law adopts 
BjetJiods to force Siy into practice, with disaster to Sly throughout. 
Sly's wife is led by Florette to test Sly's fidelity by calling him in 
professionally. Sly allows Freddie to personate him, leading to com- 
plications in which every one gets mixed up. Flirtations of Sly before 
marriage also add to his perplexities, all of which are finally un- 
ravelled. The " situations " which follow each other in rapid suc- 
cession make this farce irresistibly comic. Plays two hours. 

PRICE 25 CENTS 

A PUZZLED DETECTIVE 

Farce in Three Acts. Five Males, Three Females 
By L. E. W. Snow 

Three Interior scenes. A letter inclosing money, abstracted t»y a 
darkey who cannot read, causes Ned Walton, the detective, to get his 
client's affairs all muddled up, resulting In absurd situations, es- 
pecially when the darkey is supposed to be Walton In disguise. A 
needy doctor fiads his daughter, a brother discovers his sister, and 
two girl chums become sisters-in-law to their great satisfaction, and 
the muddle is cleared up. Plays one hour. 

PRICE 15 CENTS 

THE HOOSIER SCHOOL 

Farce in One Act. Five Males, Five Females 
By Wm. and Josephine Giles 

One interior scene. A realistic picture of a district school in a 
small Western village. The rough and ready teacher and his tricky 
scholars keep the audience in a roar. The teacher is finally squelched 
by the irate mother of one of his pupils. The piece is cleverly worked 
out and full of funny incidents. Plays thirty minutes. 

PRICE 15 CENTS 

MRS. FORRESTER'S CRUSADE 

Farce in One Act. One Male, Two Females 
By C. Leona Dalrymple 

One Interior scene. Helen has written to Professor Butler, inviting 
him to call to obtain her parents' consent to their engagement. Mrs. 
Forrester, her mother, also writes inviting him, and requests his co- 
operation in her endeavor to cure Helen of her habit of using slang 
expressions. This letter was mislaid and not sent. He calls, and 
during the interview Mrs. Forrester crowds into her conversation all 
the atrocities of slang possible, to Helen's consternation and Butler's 
disgust. Finally, the missing letter accidentally turns up. Mrs. 
Forrester's attempts at slang are screamingly funny. Plays thirty 
minutes. 

PRICE 15 CENTS 

A LEGAL PUZZLE 

Farce Comedy in Three Acts. Seven Males, Five Females 
By W. a. Tremaynb 

Three interior scenes. Costumes modern. This play can be highly 
recommended, the scenes are easy, the dialogue brisk and snappy, 
and the action rapid. The parts are all good, being evenly divldec^ 
U^ principals appearing in each act. Plays two and a half hours. 

PRICE 25 CSNTS 




PLAYS WE RECOMMEND 

Fifteen Cents Each (Postage, i Cent Extra) 



Acts MaU'K Fcmalt s 'iinii 



Arabian Nights 

Bundle of Matches 

Crawford's Claim 

Her Ladyship's Niece 

Just for Fun 

Men, Maids, Matchmakers 

Our Boys 

Puzzled Detective 

Three Hats 

Timothy Delano's 

Courtship 
Up-to-Date Anne 
White Shawl 
Fleeing Flyer 
From Funkin' Ridge 
Handy Solomon 
Hoosier School 
Kiss in the Dark 
Larry 
Love Birds' Matrimonial 

Agency 
Married Lovers 
A^a's New Boarders 
Mrs. Forester's Crusade 
New Pastor 
Relations 

Standing Room Only 
Stormy Night 
Surprises 
Tangles 

Little Rogue Next Door 
•Till Three P. M. 
Train to Mauro 
When Women Rule 
Won by a Kodak 
April Fools 
Fun in a Schoolroom 
Little Red Mare 
Manager's Trials 
Medica 

Mischievous Bob 
Cheerful Companion 
Dolly's Double 
Drifted Apart 
Gentle Touch 
John's Emmy 
Point of View 
Professor's Truant Glove 
Belles of Blackville 
Sweet Family 
Conspirators 
A Day and a Night 
Gertrude Mason, M.D. 
In Other People's Shoes 
Maidens All Forlorn 
Mary Ann 
Romance of Phyllis 
Fuss vs. Feathers 
Tanglefoot vs. Peruna 
Great Libel Case 



Farce 
Comedy 
Drama 
Comedy 



Farce 

Comedy 

Farce 

Drama 
Farce 



Comedy 
Farce 

Sketch 

Farce 

Comedy 

Farce 



Comedy 
Farce 



Comedy 
Dialogue 



Minstrel 

Entertainment 

Comedy 

Farce 
Comedy 



Mock Trial 




4 

1 
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2 
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21 



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4 
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2h 

2h 

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20m 

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^'^^^1^^1P^^J'^J^^^^^^J'^J ^i^J ' i^^,? ^' ^ 1 P^ l ^^ ^^^^^J'JhK, 




Lf.?''^''^ ^^ CONGRESS 



PLAYS WE RECC 

For Schools and Coll 
Twenty-five cents (Postage 



Irish Eden 

Kidnapped Freshman 

Matrimonial Tiff 

Little Savage 

Lodgers Taken In 

Miss Mosher of Colorado 

Miss Neptune 

My Uncle from India 

Never Again 

New England Folks 

Next Door 

Oak Farm 

Riddles 

Rosebrook Farm 

Stubborn Motor Car 

Too Many Husbands 

When a Man's Single 

Where the Lane Turned 

After the Honeymoon 

Biscuits and Bills 

Chance at Midnight 

Conquest of Helen 

The Coward 

Sheriff of Tuckahoe 

Bashful Mr. Bobbs 

Whose Widow- 
Alice's Blighted Profes- 
sion 

Regular Girls 

100'7(, American 

Parlor Patriots 

Fads and Fancies 

Mr. Loring's Aunts 

My Son Arthur 

Sewing Circle Meets 

Every Senior 

Bride and Groom 

Last Chance 

Bubbles 

Hurricane Wooing 

Peggy's Predicament 

Found in a Closet 

Slacker (?) for the Cause 

Baby Scott 

Biiiy's Bungalow 

College Chums 

Delegates from Denver 

Football Romance 

Held for Postage 

In the Absence of Susan 

Transaction in Stocks 

Aunt Dinah's Quilting 
Party 

Bachelor Maids' Reunion 

In the Ferry House 

Rustic Minstrel Show 

Ye Village Skewl of Long 
Ago *« 

Rainbow Kimona 

Rosemary 
' Pharaoh's Knob 








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Farce 


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3 


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2Hh 


Comedy 


3 


5 


4 


2h 


Comedy 


3 


7 


4 


2i/.'.h 


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3 


3 


3 


iVlh 


•' 


3 


G 


9 


l%h 


" 


3 


7 


4 


2U.h 


Farce 


2 


« 


4 


2h 


Comedy 


3 


I 


4 


2h 


" 


4 




r, 


2h 


F'arce 


1 




3 


50m 


Comedy 


1 




1 


lV4h 


Drama 


1 


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1 


25m 


Comedy 


1 


3 


2 


Ih 


Drama 


1 


5 


2 


30m 


V'estern Sk. 


1 


3 


1 


Ih 


Comedy 


3 


4 


7 


2i/2h 


" 


1 


5 


4 


50m 


Sketch 


1 





8 


50m 


Entertainment 


I 





any no. 


Ih 


Comedy 


1 





15 


11/,. h 


" 


1 





12 


Ih 


Sketch 


1 





17 


Ih 


Comedy 


3 





13 


Wih 


'* 


1 


2 


8 


%h 


Entertainment 


1 





10 


lV4h 


Morality play 


1 





8 


40m 


Farce 


3 


5 


5 


2Mh 


Comedy 


2 


2 


12 


lV,h 


" 


3 


4 


3 


li'.,h 


" 


3 


4 


3 


11 'oh 


" 


1 





5 


i..h 


" 


1 


1 


3 


20m 


Sketch 


1 


3 


1 


20m 


Farce 


3 


5 


4 


2V4h 


Comedy 


3 


5 


4 


2h 


" 


3 


9 


3 


2h 


Farce 


2 


3 


10 


%h 


Comedy 


4 


9 


4 


2y2h 


Farce 


2 


4 


3 


iy4h 


'• 


3 


4 


6 


IVoh 


Comedy 


1 


4 


1 


45m 


Entertainment 


1 


5 


11 


2h 


" 


1 


2 


any nu. 


11/. h 


" 


1 


15 


11 


li/ah 


<« 


1 


any no 


any no. 


lyoh 


" 


2 


any no 


any no. 


2h 


" 


2 





9 


iV^h 


Comedy 


4 





14 


l^h 


" 


1 


1 


12 


ih 



